Tonight the piano plays and the lobby lounge sings with the sound of their voices and the song of their laughter. There is a group of 15, tables of 2-3 and me, hidden in the background.
I sit and watch and wonder, where are they all from? What are they all doing here? How do they know each other?
I imagine into their lives. Are they friends from long ago? Business colleagues? Family? Lovers? Nomads? Adventurers?
Is this their “special place” or a newfound treasure? Are they here for the night or on their way to a new adventure but caught by the storm?
As I wonder, the guests come and go. They are young and old and everything in between. Men and women. Girls and boys. They wear shorts and cocktail dresses. Carry backpacks and purses. Come from far away and close by. They are the Pfister. At once elegant and casual. Old and new. Near and far. One-of-a-kind and everyday.
Their voices and laughter are louder now. Kelly is behind the bar and so is Michael. Laurette sits next to me sipping her scotch, helping me find the right words and sharing her story.
“I love the ambience. [And] like seeing all of the people going by. It is like an old fashioned train station. You never know where they are going or where they are coming from.”
This is the Pfister.